


First Kiss

by Lariope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-27
Updated: 2009-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lariope/pseuds/Lariope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco reminisce about how it all began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

“Of course I remember it. I wasn’t _that_ drunk. In fact, I seem to recall that you were the one in dire need of a Hangover Potion the next morning,” Draco said, his head lolling easily against the back of the settee on which they were curled.

“I don’t mean that one,” Harry said, glancing away. “I mean the one before. The one in the hospital wing.”

“We never kissed in the hospital wing,” Draco said. “You’re mad. The only time we were ever in the hospital wing together, I had broken your face.”

“First of all, you never broke my face. _I_ broke your nose, and when you rolled around on the ground pretending to have a seizure, I bent down to make sure I hadn’t driven your nose into your brain or something, and you sucker punched me.”

“At which point, you fainted.”

“I did NOT faint, you wanker. You knocked the wind out of me when I fell on your knee. It just took me a moment to get my breath back so that I could split your lip for you.”

“Yes, well, at least I got that lovely swollen pout out of it. Pansy followed me around like a lapdog for a week.”

“Yes, and I hear her affection is _so_ hard to come by.”

“Don’t change the subject. You were telling me all about your sad little fantasy about kissing me in the hospital wing.”

“It’s not a fantasy, Malfoy; I’m telling you, it happened.”

“Prove it.”

***

Draco lowered his head into the mist swirling above the stone bowl. No matter how many times he used a Pensieve, he still felt uncomfortable at the headlong plunge into another world, another reality, and so often the things that he found there made the world he lived in seem skewed and unrecognizable.

For instance, landing in the hospital wing and seeing himself and having no memory of his own to match to it.

His other self lay on a hospital cot in an empty room, his skin impossibly gray and still shimmering, in places, from the magic that was knitting his wounds.

 _Ah_ , he thought aloud, though there was no one there to hear him. _After the bathroom._

He could hear the faint voices of Snape and Madam Pomfrey in the next room, arguing by the sound of it. And then Potter materialized from underneath his cloak of rippling air, and he stood at the foot of Draco’s bed.

Draco walked around to stand beside himself, so as to better see Potter’s face. None of this made sense; Potter had tried to kill him that night. It was impossible that they had kissed. Certainly, he would have remembered it if they had, but he had no memory of that night, none at all. Nothing after, “ _Sectumsempra._ ”

“Oh, God, Malfoy,” Potter whispered, and his face crumpled. “Oh, God, Malfoy, I’m sorry.”

Something inside the present Draco’s chest loosened. Despite the fact that this incident had been forgiven for years, despite the fact that he knew Potter hadn’t meant to hurt him, and that he’d given nearly as good as he’d got that evening, there was still something old and festering inside him that had needed to hear Harry apologize.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you look terrible. Malfoy, I swear, if I had known what that spell would do, I never would have used it. Never.”

Potter came around the side of the bed, stepping right through present Draco, who shuddered, though he didn’t feel a thing. He simply took a step back and watched as Harry tentatively reached out and touched the thin white gown covering the boy on the hospital cot.

“I never thought I’d say this, but thank God for Snape. They say he got there in time, Malfoy. You won’t scar at all, and they’ve given you Blood Replenishing Potion. So everything’s going to be okay, Malfoy, you have to believe me. I never would have done this on purpose, but it’s okay, because nothing’s going to change for you. You’ll still be pale, perfect Draco Malfoy. Nothing’s been spoiled. I didn’t wreck you. It’s going to be all right.”

Potter stood there for a seemingly endless amount of time, seeming to catalogue with his eyes every glimmering inch of Draco’s skin. His fingers brushed the line of Draco’s jaw, swept the hair back from his forehead.

“Why don’t you wake up?” he said, at last, his voice rising. “Why don’t you wake up and hex me within an inch of my life? Get up and give it back to me, you prick; I’ll even say it again so you’ll know it for sure: _Sectumsempra._ Sectumsempra! What do I care, I’ve got scars already, what’s a few more? Get up, Malfoy!”

Suddenly, both present Draco and Potter seemed to come to attention. The murmuring from the next room had stopped.

Potter pulled the cloak up to his shoulders, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. But it seemed that Snape and Pomfrey had dismissed whatever they’d heard, as no footsteps approached the empty ward, and gradually, the sound of their discussion drifted back to two pairs of straining ears.

“Wake up, Malfoy,” Harry whispered and shook him. “Wake up.”

And present Draco started with surprise to see Potter lean down and kiss him full on the mouth.

***

“You _kissed_ me?” Draco cried. “You took advantage of my weakened, defenseless state? Oh, Potter, you are far more perverted than I ever imagined.”

Harry blushed predictably. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you. I was trying to wake you up.”

“Do tell,” Draco said. “Was this some sort of Gryffindor tradition? Is that how you got Weasley up in the morning?”

“Look, I’m sorry I ever brought this up. It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t even remember it.”

“No, you kissed me, and I want to know why. It was years before we… you know.”

“No, I know. It’s just… in the Muggle world there are kids’ stories, you know, with magic and stuff. And sometimes, some of those things turned out to be based on… our world.”

“Forgive me, but I’m not following the surely obvious link between Muggle children’s stories and kissing me.”

“Well,” Harry said, and his blush deepened, “sometimes when someone was asleep and couldn’t wake up… I mean, sometimes it was an enchanted sleep or something… and well, sometimes the person had to be kissed.”

Draco was torn. Part of him wanted to howl with laughter and Floo everyone he knew to announce that Potter was a delusional pervert who kissed sleeping people in case they were enchanted, but the rest of him was moved in a way that he would never, ever admit to. Harry had been afraid for him, and in his fear, he had resorted to asking for miracles, for the kinds of impossible things that only children believe in.

“What would you have done if I had woken up?” Draco asked quietly.

“I have no idea. There wasn’t really a plan for that part of it.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Draco thought of the years that had been pointlessly lost, all the fights that could have been avoided.

“Come here,” he said, and he kissed Harry shyly on the corner of his mouth, as if it were the first time.


End file.
